Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Bygones. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Bygones Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Nina Lacour,John Ashbery,Faraaz Kazi,Tom Brokaw,Lou Reed for you to enjoy and share.
We were nostalgic for a time that wasn't yet over.
It was all as it had been,
except for the weight of the present,
that scuttled the pact we made with heaven.
In truth there was no cause for rejoicing,
nor need to turn around, either.
We were lost just by standing,
listening to the hum of wires overhead.
All the good times evaporated like naphtha, the moment some air of misconceptions touched it.
forty years earlier. Quite
those were different times.
Some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth.
Good days are upon us.
Woe unto the defeated, whom history treads into the dust.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave
Awaits alike the inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
It's the age of reason for the anarchist.
So many bright futures consigned to the ashes of the past.So many dreams lost in the madness that had engulfed us.Except for a few widely scattered shouts of joy,the survivors of the abyss sat hollow-eyed and silent, trying to comprehend a world without war.
Time! where didst thou those years inter Which I have seene decease?
The past is a bucket of ashes
The times that tried men's souls are over-and the greatest and completest revolution the world ever knew, gloriously and happily accomplished.
A golden past
That flees so fast,
Danger past, God is forgotten.
Sometimes hope for the future is found in the ashes of yesterday.
We beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
And the years came and went, the decades. But now it's no longer possible to put it off any more: either now or never. The one final opportunity must be taken, for the hour is late and nobody will come upon me.
When Reason died, then Wisdom was born.
But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished forever.
The great times were never as great as they seem in the rearview mirror.
A time is marked not so much by ideas that are argued about as by ideas that are taken for granted. The character of an era hangs upon what needs no defense.
There shall be time no more.
Notwithstanding a mendacious press; notwithstanding a subsidized gang of hirelings who have not ceased to traduce me, I have discharged all my official duties and fulfilled my pledges. And I say here tonight that if my predecessor had lived, the vials of wrath would have poured out upon him.
History has tongues Has angels has guns has saved has praised Today proclaims Achievements of her exiles long returned Now no more rootless, for whom her printed page Glazes their bruised waste years in one Balancing present sky.
Justice was done, and the President of the Immortals (in Aeschylean phrase) had ended his sport with Tess.
Fear not for the future, weep not for the past
The awful daring of a moment's surrender which an age of prudence
can never retract.
by this, and only this, we have existed.
And gone the Godless destiny of death and desperation, and gone the madness of a life committed to uncare, and gone the tears and terror of the brutal days and endless nights where time alone would rule.
How the past perishes is how the future becomes.
I was born in the age of "alas".
Twilight fell, bye and bye, and then the dark shadows of night.
The inspirations of today are the shams of tomorrow the purpose has departed.
The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise, is gone!
Glory comes too late when we are nought but ashes.
History: A distillation of rumor.
Like it or not, I'm here now, in the year 1Q84. The 1984 that I knew no longer exists. It's 1Q84 now. The air has changed, the scene has changed.
There was a beautiful time...
Farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear
Would Time but await the close of our favorite follies, we should all be young men, all of us, and until Doom's Day.
The fountain has not played itself out, the Flame still shines, the River still flows, the Spring still bubbles forth, the Light has not faded. But between us and It, there is a veil which is more like fifty feet of solid concrete. Deus absconditus. Or we have absconded.
All for the first time, in the days when acts had no consequences and nothing was irrecoverable, and love was simple and even pain had the dignity of enduring forever: it was unimaginable that time could do anything to diminish it.
Youth faces forward, impatient of the present, panting to anticipate the future. But we who have crossed a certain sad meridian, we turn our gaze backward,and tell the relentless gods what we would sacrifice to recover a little of the past...
What have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed.
terrible fates are inevitable
For these were the days when Time was still the horizon of beauty and had not yet begun its slow inexorable destructions.
Somewhere in the distance, the synchronic circles of our pasts had tripped a domino, and the steady whirr had grown till it now drowned with the roar of contingency
The time is gone when mere accidents could still happen to me; and what could still come to me now that was not mine already? What returns, what finally comes home to me, is my own self and what of myself has long been in strange lands and scattered among all things and accidents.
Every reader should remember the diffidence of Socrates, and repair by his candour the injuries of time: he should impute the seeming defects of his author to some chasm of intelligence, and suppose that the sense which is now weak was once forcible
These tales of a world, once beautiful, and now fairly forgotten.
Wise words were never spoken,
never thought
never lived.
P.C.M. Hermans
September 27, 2016
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost;
The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled.
Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.
But nothing else escapes all-ruinous time.
Earth's might decays, the might of men decays,
Honor grows cold, dishonor flourishes,
There is no constancy 'twixt friend and friend,
Or city and city; be it soon or late,
Sweet turns to bitter, hate once more to love.
The world turns, and life changes, the good old days are fantasies-just screened memories.
The past is a great darkness, and filled with echos. Voices may reach us from it; but what they say to us is imbued with the obscurity of the matrix out of which they come; and, try as we may, we cannot always decipher them precisely in the clearer light of our own day.
The masters have been done away with; the morality of the common man has triumphed.
Time and tide and the ravages of sin take their toll on the most noble achievements of man.
We wither from our youth; we gasp with unslaked thirst for unattainable good; lured from the first to the last by phantoms - love, fame, ambition, avarice - all idle, and all ill - one meteor of many names, that vanishes in the smoke of death.[8]
What's past is prologue, and the world awaits.
I'm nostalgic for a better tomorrow.
Time is the Mercy of Eternity
However, at 17 years old, I was ready to face any challenge and tackle any obstacles blocking the road to my dreams. I was ready to take on the world. I was unstoppable. Bygones were bygones. The future, however uncertain it might be, awaited me.
One of the peculiarities of recent speculation, especially in America, is that ideas are abandoned in virtue of a mere change of feeling, without any new evidence or new arguments. We do not nowadays refute our predecessors, we pleasantly bid them good-bye.
Time lost, as men may see, For nothing may recovered be.
Glory comes too late, after one as been reduced to ashes.
The best years are behind me.
The past is gone-the future is not come. And we are here together, you and I.
It is true that I am of an older fashion; much that I love has been destroyed or sent into exile.
The glories of the past compensated for the imperfections of the present.
We have lived too long. The great days are past.
Only fools prefer the past!
Once upon a time wasn't as long ago as it used to be.
It's sad to see Time's toothless mouth laughing the poets to scorn. The stars are all explained and the mist is all measured, and there is no magic left in this dreary world.
Time after time have nations, ay, and rich and strong nations, learned in the arts, been, and passed away to be forgotten, so that no memory of them remains. This is but one of several; for Time eats up the works of man.
No more lost days.
The day before yesterday always has been a glamour day. The present is sordid and prosaic. Time colors history as it does a meerschaum pipe.
Or ever the knightly years were gone With the old world to the grave,
Time transcends morality
We shall have all eternity in which to celebrate our victories, but we have only one swift hour before the sunset in which to win them.
Book 3: Fatal Consequences
The past is but the past of a beginning.
Say no ill of the yeere, till it be past.
[Say no ill of the year till it be past.]
Time slips away and leaves you with nothing, mister, but boring stories of glory days.
Epochs later, the curtains grew dusty and brittle, the deep, vicious colour of a bruise. The floorboards creaked and we were civilized. We were no longer the wild, ravening voices of the world, howling our shame and indignation at the sky.
Was coming to that troubled twilight time, a time of regrets that resemble hopes, of hopes that resemble regrets, when youth is past but old age has not yet come.
Our yesterdays Are like a lonely and a ruined land Wherein a breeze of recollection sighs
A fading land to which is no return.
The 'good old times' - all times when old are good.
The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void.
The high ideals and promises you once dressed the future in are dancing in the embers with the wind.
When Time who steals our years away Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay, And half our joys renew.
In times of change and danger, when there is a quicksand of fear under one's reasoning, a sense of continuity with generations before can stretch like a lifeline across the scary present. John Dos Passos
The cigar has been smoked out, and we are the ashes.
The good ole days weren't always good, and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems.
It has turned out to be an annus horribilis.
Do not belong to the past dawns,but to the noons of future